The Darkest Hour Before Dawn
by RouthFan
Summary: After Superman and Batman battle Doomsday, Superman is in the hospital and it doesn't look good. Lois turns to Bruce Wayne to help in a time of crisis. Can Batman deal with the demons that plague him? He just couldn't get there soon enough.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This fic that's posted here is a very edited version of a much racier one over at Livejournal, which is an NC-17 version (and original version, which if you ask me isn't necessary, but a lot more fun if you're over the age of 17; if not, stick to this version here please). I did say that I wouldn't post it on this site, but I changed my mind because this story is beginning to develop in my head to be a bit more lengthy and meaty it terms of plot than I had originally intended. So I'm going with it! **

**Thanks to Kabuki_Party at LiveJournal for putting this plot bunny in my head, and the idea of a "Brois" fic. I know I said I'd focus on "Proximity" if anyone reading this is familiar with that longer fiction, but this one just had to get written.** ** Oh, one more thing; this isn't betaed, so read at your own risk.**

**Rating: R--for violent and adult concepts**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, just the plot. **

* * *

**The Darkest Hour before Dawn**

It was a phone call that felt surreal. It had to have been a dream, this wasn't really happening.

But it was.

Lois Lane's fingers felt numb in a haze of distorted reality as her fingers scrolled through her husband's cell phone. She remained cradled in her sister's embrace; the softness of the thick sweater was damp against her cheek after having absorbed more than a fair amount of tears.

The tin ring of the phone finally ceased as a warm British voice answered. "Good evening, Wayne manor, may I inquire to the nature of your call?"

"Alfred," Lois whispered, as her voice had grown hoarse. "It's Lois; I need to speak to Bruce."

A pause on the other end of the line came as the old man detected desperation in Lois's voice; and the unusualness that she had called. Lois never called, it was usually her husband.

"Master Wayne isn't here I'm afraid. He's out for the evening," Alfred rattled as their known code that Batman had been called and was busy.

"Put me through, please Alfred," she pleaded. "I know he's somewhere in Metropolis, but I need him…" she trailed as she managed to swallow another eruption of tears that had welled in her throat.

"Of course," the man's voice became solemn.

Lucy Lane looked at her sister with confusion, why she wanted to speak to Bruce Wayne, was beyond her. She had no idea her sister was friends with such a polar opposite from herself. Granted, as a highly reputable journalist, her list of professional contacts was impressive as it was lengthy but Bruce Wayne was something of an enigma.

Lucy's fingers rhythmically combed through her sister's hair and looked out the window. Tears began to fall down her own face as the incredible sadness continued to seep into her.

So many things had happened so quickly, so much information had come to light for their family that Lois had kept pent up for nearly a decade. Lucy found it unfathomable to digest that Clark Kent was Superman. Lois, her sister was married to not only a wonderful husband, but the world's hero. Superman.

"Bruce? It's Lois. We need you," Lois paused and looked up at her sister whose gaze had remained blank out the dark window. "I'm at Metropolis General. How soon can you be here?"

"Ten minutes, I'm in the neighborhood" he replied. "I've been a bit busy around here."

"I know."

Bruce sighed. "Any word?"

Lois began to sob uncontrollably as Lucy took the phone from her sister's limp hand. She looked around at all the machines in the large room that surrounded the singular hospital bed.

"Hello?" She stated into the mouthpiece as she looked down at her sister again. Lucy wasn't exactly certain what to say to the billionaire. If Lois had kept Clark's identity a secret from her own sister, more than likely she hadn't shared it with anyone else either.

"Lois?"

"This is her sister, Lucy. Mr. Wayne," she said hesitantly.

Bruce and Lucy skipped the pointless pleasantries of introductions.

"Do you have any word?" he repeated to the new set of ears.

Lois's muffled voice interjected in broken sentences between sobs from her sister's embrace. "It's okay Lucy. He knows. You can tell him everything."

Silence on the line caused a knot to form in the man's stomach as Lois's sister sighed after an abnormally long refrain.

"Bruce, Superman is dead."

***

* * *

Lucy marveled at the sharp contrast between the flashy larger than life executive playboy and the quiet, somber and down to earth individual who was in the highly guarded hospital room. With the exception of his handsomely strong features, brown eyes, immaculately groomed sandy brown hair and clothing, Bruce Wayne was _nothing_ like the man the press portrayed.

His eyes closed as Lois buried her face into his chest.

"I'm sorry I couldn't have gotten here sooner," he quietly apologized.

"I know, you were busy," she managed as she pulled away. Her hand lingered in his as the two friends advanced a few paces the bed in the room. Both sets of eyes traveled the lifeless man who remained beneath the sheets.

Lucy observed the steely eyes of the man became glassy; wet with tears as he put his hand over Clark's battered one.

"I'm sorry Clark, I'm so _sorry_," he whispered. "I should have been there. I was too late, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..." he trailed as his voice became obstructed by silent sobs.

Lois's head leaned against the square shoulder of Bruce's wool coat. "It's not your fault." She looked at the now peaceful face of her husband's body that had been cleaned of his own blood.

"I should have been there," he repeated darkly.

A flicker of fear flashed through Lucy as she saw the anger that seethed in his brown eyes. The two seemed oblivious to Lucy's presence in the room.

Hours passed as the three sat in silence in the room. No one wanted to accept that this was the last time they would see either Clark or Superman. If they left, it would become too real.

Eventually, Bruce took Lois in her arms and looked at her resolutely. The time had come to leave and make arragnements. Tears again began to flow as Lois looked at her husband's lifeless body. As she stood, her knees failed her as she nearly buckled to the floor in grief. Her screams of anguish echoed down the hall.

She couldn't leave her husband.

* * *

***

The dust glimmered as it caught the afternoon sunlight that filtered through the tall windows at Wayne Manor. Lois sat in the sunlight and soaked up the warmth as her dazed expression had remained unchanged since they returned from the cemetery.

The tea cup that remained cradled in its saucer spun as Lois absent mindedly twirled it. At last, it was quiet. She was alone with her thoughts, not that she had wanted it that way. But it was a necessary step of the grieving process and she knew at some point, it had to come.

Bruce had entered the room quietly, Lois hadn't attended to his presence, and perhaps she was unaware of it until her figure jumped when his hand came to rest upon her shoulder.

"I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's alright. My mind was elsewhere, besides, you have a habit of being pretty quiet."

Her hazel eyes looked up and met his, they were filled with an emptiness Bruce had known all to well.

"Stay as long as you need to," he murmured.

"Thanks. I will."

Lois felt horrible; he knew from far too much personal experience. When his parents were killed, when Rachel was taken from him, it was an ache, a deep void of nothing, a numbness that only someone could relate to once they had been unfortunate to suffer such a loss.

Lois hadn't had time to grieve, since Clark had passed away, Superman's national memorial service had kept Lois in an extremely public view. What was her and husband's career had now become a double-edged sword. The media had been relentless despite one of their own had experienced such a loss. Rumors of romance had always circulated from the day Lois Lane's "I Spent the Night with Superman" article was printed.

With the exception of himself, her sister, now Perry White and Clark's close friend Jimmy Olsen, no one else knew Lois was saying goodbye to her husband when she stood on the podium and spoke of Superman. Bruce was well aware that as far as the public was concerned, Lois Lane was the strongest human connection with the Man of Steel; his friend and perhaps lover, and therefore was the most logical choice of media attention as well as speaker at his memorial service.

But that was a few days ago. Today was different; during the small and more private funeral for Clark Kent, it was the day Lois Lane buried her husband.

"I've got to go," he said.

"I'll be fine," she stated flatly. "Alfred's good company; his tea is better than yours."

"He's English."

"That explains it," she remarked, relieved for a bit of normal sarcasm. "I always knew there was something different about his accent."

"Glad I could clarify," Bruce turned but gave pause before he continued down the long corridor. "If you need me, just let Alfred know. I'll be in Metropolis. Gotham can do without me for a night."

Lois looked at him with gratitude. They both knew that criminals weren't so disappointed Superman wasn't there anymore. Someone needed to keep chaos from erupting. Batman had been more than helpful, though his distribution of justice wasn't so kind.

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**Please leave a review and let me know what you think. This crossover is going to be a good blend of Lois Lane and Bruce Wayne's world so therefore I've put it in the crossover section between Superman and Batman. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: As I've said before, some of this is edited to be appropriate to post on this site. As for the characters, I picture Erica Durance's Lois Lane (Smallville) and Christian Bale. This fic. isn't after any particular Superman film, but most definitely after TDK.** **I hope it's entertaining and I got Bruce's character down correctly, this is my first fic writing him.**

The Darkest Hour Before Dawn: Chapter 2

The cool sheets rumpled as Lois tossed restlessly. She ached to feel Clark's back rise and fall as he slept on his side next to her, to watch his eyes that flitted beneath closed eyelids as an occasional snort escaped when he snored. His voice echoed in the silence of the room. His laugh; how she missed it. Her wounds didn't seem to heal despite the time that continued forward.

She tried to tell herself that he was gone, but it felt so much that he was still with her. At times, when Lois lay in bed in the haze between asleep and awake, she swore his body was next to hers, that she could feel each peak and valley of his musculature, the warmth that radiated from him but as the murkiness of the sub-dreamlike state dissipated, so did her husband. His ghostly presence still lingered, it wouldn't leave her and it was worse at night.

"God Clark, I miss you so much it aches," she stated to the darkness as if he was next to her. "Oh honey, how am I going to go on without you?" She began to sob again into the cold pillow that lay next to her. Fear overtook her, what if she began to forget? To forget what he smelled like, what his voice sounded like, how he touched her, or made love to her…

She rolled over again, looked at the glowing green numbers on the clock and sighed in frustration as it was still the middle of the night. Since Clark's funeral two weeks ago, she hadn't been sleeping well.

However, it was to be expected she supposed. Her mind raced at night with images of her husband's lifeless body in her arms as blood, _his_ blood, ran down her arms and saturated her clothes. The last breath he took, her own screams that filled her head as his body grew limp and cold.

She couldn't shake the image, or the flashes of his burial, the sporadic flurries that floated down from the grey winter sky, when she stood alone, felt equally so as the minister's words washed through her without comfort.

_Her eyes that burned from too many tears looked over the top of the simple coffin with white roses strewn, across to Perry White and Jimmy Olsen. Perry's red eyes met hers, a wordless message of "I'm so sorry. We've lost our savior, our friend."_

_The hand of Clark's mother tightly grasped her own and leaned upon Lois for strength. Mothers weren't supposed to bury their children. It was an unnatural order of things. _

_Lois stood with her mother-in-law as a line of friends, colleagues and family passed the casket, each one brushing their fingertips across the wooden surface. As Bruce Wayne passed, he looked up, held her gaze, nodded and continued in the procession without a word. No one else but Lois knew why some business titan would attend the funeral of a reporter._

_Jimmy lingered at the coffin, his eyes welled with tears. He embraced Lois and began to cry. "Lois, I'm so sorry. I miss him, I'm not mad that he never told me he was Superman. I know why he kept it from me, Chief, our friends; it was to save all of us," he whispered. _

_She felt nothing. Numb. _

_Bruce Wayne and Martha Kent were next to her and the casket. Everyone else had left. Lois felt dead inside as she watched the casket lower into the ground. A barrage of tears streamed down her face, stinging as the cold winter air hit them. _

_It didn't feel real. It wasn't happening. Superman was impervious to bullets, knives-- he could fly. Yet there he was, dead and mortal after all. Lois had expected that she would have passed away first, they both did considering she aged must faster. This wasn't the way things should have been. _

_Lucy approached her as she finally came back to the car that had brought them to the cemetery. _

"_I'll stay with you as long as you need me sis," she said as Lucy hugged her sister with all her energy. _

"_I'll be alright."  
_

"_No, you won't be. Lois, you've lost your husband. _

_Being a lone is the last thing you need."_

"_It's okay Lucy; you've got a job, a life. Besides," she looked at her friend who kept his distance "I'm going to take some time off, and get out of Metropolis for awhile."_

"_Where will you go?"_

_Bruce and Lois's eyes met. _

_"Gotham. I cant' stay here right now, everywhere I look, it just hurts too much. The problem with Clark is Superman was everywhere, and everywhere reminds me of him; of us."_

_Lucy's blue eyes looked in the direction of Lois's attention and nodded to the quiet billionaire who undoubtedly offered her his hospitality. _

"_Alright, but I love you, okay? You need anything, call me. I'll be there," Lucy was resolute. _

Lois stared blankly into the darkness at the ceiling above. Perhaps a glass of chamomile tea would soothe her into sleep. A soft noise came from the direction of the west wing. She threw off the cover, slipped into a thick terrycloth robe and her bare feet padded down the hall. Someone else was up and considering the owner of the mansion, she wasn't exactly surprised.

***

* * *

Bruce sat at the massive kitchen island; his shirt was streaked with blood and wadded into a ball on the marble countertop. The man's brow furrowed as he was intently focusing on a rather large gash across his side.

"Can't sleep." It was more of a statement he posed to Lois than a question.

Bruce continued to debreide the large wound as his torso contorted to access the awkward location along his lower ribcage. Each time his trunk twisted, more of the bright red blood leaked in a trail down his side.

"No," she remarked as Lois remained transfixed by the strange sight of copious amounts of blood. "Busy night?"

He nodded. "Sleeping pills are in the upper left cabinet above the sink."

"I was thinking a cup of chamomile tea," she argued. "The _last _thing I need is to develop an addiction and land myself on the front page of a tabloid…not that I haven't had plenty of face time on them recently," she grimaced.

"You're going to need something a little stronger than herbal tea," he paused as his eyes shifted up to Lois in her robe "and you're not going to convince me or yourself otherwise. Since you're here," he gestured to the alcohol bottle and gauze pads. "This one's a bit hard to reach and I promised Alfred I'd be more careful."

Lois found herself in unfamiliar territory. When Clark had come back at odd hours of the early morning, he never had a scratch, let alone a large gash that probably should have been sutured at the hospital.

Bruce seemed to sense her hesitation. "Just take the sterile gauze, soak the pad and clean it," he recited with an air of irritation.

As her hand began to sterilize the skin around the edges of the wound, the taught abdominals and oblique tightened as he flinched.

"I thought you were used to this," she commented as he winced.

"Doesn't mean it hurts less," he muttered through clenched teeth. The muscles beneath his skin rippled has he flinched again. "Do you know how to suture?"

They both looked at the sterile suture kit on the countertop. "It's been awhile, a long time. Clark didn't exactly need stitches or band aides you know," Lois smiled at her husband's memory.

It was the first time she had said his name out loud since he had passed away. Both fell silent at the mention of the man who was no longer with them.

"I suppose not," Bruce commented as he opened the sterile package, twisted his torso again and began to stitch his own side.

Lois rolled her eyes. "But apparently you're just as stubborn. Give it to me. You're talking to the daughter of an Army General; do you really think my dad wouldn't have taught me how to do that?"

She began to slip the needle back and forth to pull closed the open flesh. When she had finished, she washed her hands and inspected her work.

"Well? Acceptable?"

"Better than I could have done myself and better than going to the hospital again. I've run out of excuses. I don't think they'd buy that my butler beat me."

She eyed his still shirtless frame and inspected the number of scars along his broad back, chest and errant grazing along Bruce's toned arms.

"Looks like you've had more than one opportunity to practice."

"Alfred's not particularly fond of that story, although I can't seem to imagine why."

"Doesn't your suit have Kevlar in it?"

"It does, but that doesn't mean the other guys out there can't slice through it on occasion. Some of the criminals, particulary the psychopaths are fairly intelligent out there."

Bruce retrieved a pair of glasses and filled them halfway with a bottle of Dalmore 50 Year Old whiskey. When he returned to the stools at the kitchen isle, he handed Lois a glass. The two clinked them together.

"_This_ is a hell of a lot more effective than herbal tea Lois. It tastes better too," he grinned and took a long drink.

She nodded, tipped her head back and allowed the intense and dark liquid to burn the back of her throat. At least the burning sensation of the fiery beverage was something she could feel.

"Does it ever go away?" Lois asked after a brief moment of contemplation.

"What does? The emptiness? Sometimes."

Bruce put the glass down, the sound of the glass connecting with the marble countertop echoed in the silence. His dark eyes searched hers. She saw the expression that had looked back at her in the mirror countless times since Clark's death.

The emptiness in his eyes, a flash of isolation, then it disappeared again. He placed his hand on top of hers.

"You're never the same Lois; I'd be lying to you if I told you otherwise." He swallowed more of the drink. "I don't exactly take you for the type of woman who believes a load of bullshit."

"You'd be right," she sighed, leaned on the counter and brushed away her messy hair from her face. "I don't feel anything. I feel dead inside."

"That it's not real, it didn't happen, an awful dream that happens to other people--"

"--but not to you," she completed.

"Something like that."

"Is that why you sneak around rooftops at night? Vengeance?"

"Is that a rhetorical question? I thought you were a better journalist than that Lois."

"Is that your way of evading a real answer?" Her eyebrow rose as her glare penetrated his. "Remember Bruce," she stood, took the crystal decanter and refilled both their glasses "I know a pile of manure when I smell one."

Bruce looked away from her intense stare, at the floor and swirled the dark liquid in his glass. He sighed and looked up at her again in surrender.

"Of course it is Lois, but it didn't end when the man who killed my parents was put away. The line just became too far to see."

Batman was as much of himself as Superman was of Clark. She understood and managed a smile.

Her hand wandered to the fresh incision and a slender finger traced around the red border of the wound. "Does it hurt?"

"Not too bad." He smiled. "The whiskey helps. The $11,000 price tag was worth it."

"This is $11,000 a bottle?" she commented in amazement at the commonplace extravagance she found at Wayne Manor.

"Enjoy, I know you like your single malts. I've got a case of it in the wine cellar. "

"You didn't buy this for me…" her jaw hung open slightly as she inhaled sharply in disbelief. The musky scent of Bruce's aftershave along with sweat tingled in her nose. It was different than Clark's but not unpleasant.

"I did. Look, it's not a big deal and I'll let you in on a secret considering we don't really keep any of those between the two of us…" he leaned close with his lips centimeters from her ear as his voice lowered. "It's okay, I can afford it. Besides, anything I can do to make you feel a little better is worth it."

"I'm flattered Bruce, it's the little things that let me know you care," she stated patronizingly and leaned on his shoulder.

Her stomach grew warm as she leaned against his bare chest. Lois wasn't able to tell if it was the drink or the closeness of her friend's amazingly toned body to her own.

Lois's fingers began to travel along the ravines of the muscles on his arm as she continued to rest against his frame. Her index finger traced along an old scar as she inspected it. Bruce remained still, his eyes followed her fingers.

"How did you get that one?" She wondered.

"The Scarecrow. Before the Kevlar. _That_ one hurt."

Her hand continued up his arm, along the shoulder to his back, where the left upper and middle trapezius muscles met, at the scapula insertion. "And this one?" She leaned over his shoulder to examine it closer; it had been a deeper wound.

"A Ninja assassin, from the league of Shadows." Bruce kept his breathing even and deep despite an overwhelming urge to the contrary when Lois's sternum grazed his shoulder.

He never had been able to truthfully tell any woman where his multitude of scars came from since Rachel. It was refreshing and slightly arousing. Lois, like Rachel, was the kind of feisty woman who could push his buttons.

Bruce turned his head over his shoulder, to watch Lois and found himself marveling at her ear, the way her thick hair tucked just so behind it and began to curl down along her neckline.

Lois paused as she felt his warm breath on her neck and the tingling that danced across her skin. She swallowed as the warming sensation only grew and traveled downward. It wasn't the whiskey. It was lust and she knew it well.

Perhaps it was the surrealism of her present day life, or the idea of a man, a well built handsome one at that, who was so close to her that set electricity in waves rolling through her. Lois had an affinity for heroes, ones with capes and skin hugging apparel in fact.

Her thumb moved down his spine to Bruce's solid lower back. The path of her thumb left a trail of fire on his flesh. He swallowed as he watched Lois, how her eyes traveled every inch of his back.

Lois found herself unable to stop. Her thumb rubbed over the raised scar tissue just above his pants line.

"This one, where did that come from…" her voice trailed as her own breathing became shallow.

"Joker, well, more like a piece of rebar that stuck out from a piece of concrete where I landed in a fight with him."

Lois slowly pulled herself upright, her face inches from the strong chin that bore another scar. Her index finger touched it and followed it up to his bottom lip. She could feel his warm breath as charged as her own.

"And this…" she whispered as her own lips hovered inches from his.

"A bar fight. Some asshole got me with a chair leg, or broken bottle…it happened rather fast. I don't remember what he used."

Her eyebrow rose in doubt. "Seriously Bruce."

He smiled. "I didn't get _all _of them as Batman. That was from college when I was a smartass with a penchant for trouble."

"Uh huh."

"Lois, _why_ would I lie to you?"

Her finger remained on his chin as he spoke and he began to drift closer, his dark eyes burned into hers causing her stomach to lurch in a familiar lustful way.

Before either of them was able to comprehend what was occurring, their lips met and Bruce slid his tongue languidly past her parted lips. With a surge of adrenaline that flowed, Lois began to explore his mouth with her own inhailing his strong scent.

His hands that had been firmly holding bar stool traveled up her arms, her shoulders and grasped her face as he inhaled sharply, pulling Lois closer.

Her hand brushed the hair from Bruce's face as she opened her eyes. She kissed him fully, with her eyes wide open as she sucked along his upper lip. A fire had grown in her abdomen as she felt a hand trace along it and travel up her side.

Bruce's blazing eyes searched her figure as neither of them made any further pretense to hide their attraction to each other. As his hand curved around her back and Lois's eyes flew to his in a smoldering expression.

She forcefully pulled his hand away from her as she continued to intently stare at him, and put both his hands at her robe. With the nonverbal cue, Bruce pushed the robe from her figure, took her by the waist and pulled her onto his lap. A grin of a cat that got the cream spread across her face.

Bruce paused, lifted the woman from him held her to his trunk as he stood. Lois wrapped her long legs around his waist and her lips brushed along his neck, traveling up to his ear as Bruce carried her to the south wing, to his bedroom but he paused. He found the concealed elevator and as Lois continued to straddle his pelvis, her teeth biting his ear, the two descended below the house where no one would disturb them, not even Alfred.

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**I hope you found it entertaining, please leave a review. I must admit, I selfishly enjoy the little flags that pop up in my email.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: I know the pairing between Bruce and Lois isn't entirely an unheard of one, but keep reading, I promise it works REALLY well. Thanks again to Kabuki_Party for the brilliant idea! I probably have a few more chapters to write on this one.**

The Darkest Hour Before Dawn: Chapter 3

Lois had an 'itch,' and Bruce was definitely scratching it.

The trail of fire sizzled in the wake of Bruce's tongue as he traveled across her skin. His eyes flickered between closed and open as his hands in tandem, slid up her back to the nape of her neck and hairline. Things began to blur the line of where either of them ended and the other began.

Lois bent her head backward and hung her mouth open in the incredible wave of new sensations that washed through each inch of her flesh; Bruce's strong and practiced hands were foreign yet so comfortable, so invigorating.

Her hands tightened and began to dig into Bruce's back. In response his head that had been firmly on nuzzling her neck snapped back, his brown eyes widened and directly stared into the depths of the woman who had connected with him.

Bruce's lips parted slightly, his mouth remained agape, groaning at the ferocity this woman possessed and the unexpected chemistry that sizzled between them.

Her head rolled sideways onto his shoulder, looked down along the ravines of the muscles of the man who held her. The warmth from him that emanated across her skin was intoxicating, addictive and she wanted more.

Bruce stroked her hair back fron her neck, caressing the line to her ear and down along her jaw. He searched her eyes for the companionship and refuge he knew both of them felt with each other. He planted a trail of tender kisses as his lips feathered from her ear along Lois's jaw line to her eager lips.

The compassionate kiss was reinvigorating in an unnatural way that Lois had never experienced before. The renewal of the insatiable desire within both of them spread a newfound source of energy from her frame.

He swept her up into his embrace again and let his mouth travel the jaw line from her ear to her lips, kissing her with an entwining balance of passion and tenderness.

"So," she managed between kisses. "You've got something stronger than chamomile tea to help me sleep..."

"I do. But it happens to be in my bedroom. I've been told my bed's comfortable."

His biceps flexed as he carried Lois in his arms and they made their way to his bedroom back above in the mansion. Her hand idly stroked the nape of his neck as he carried her.

* * *

***

Lois's eyes flickered in the darkness, her vision adjusted and observed the sleeping figure that rose and fell next to her. She sighed in contentment, stretched her limbs and rolled over. Her arm draped over his broad shoulder as Lois nuzzled the back of his neck.

_He's so warm, a fantastic personal space heater, _her other hand trailed along the middle of his back beneath the sheet that covered both of them.

"Mph" came in a low groan beneath the pillow.

"You're amazing, have I ever told you that?" The comfort of contentment of lying awake with his body nestled against hers, how it felt beside her was simply perfection. "I probably have," she whispered, nuzzled the back of his neck and continued "but I'll _never _grow tired of telling you." She smiled in the haziness of her semi dreamlike state.

The long nights of when she woke, Lois took respite knowing that he was there, to hold her, to keep her safe; to love her.

Her lips gently kissed the nape of his neck as she smiled at the rhythmic shallow breathing that bordered upon snoring.

Lois ran her fingers through the thick hair. "I love you so much Clark," she whispered and sighed, snuggling herself against him; their bare skin grazed each other as she breathed. "Always."

Lois traced her index finger along his ear, down his neck, shoulder until it fell across a scar on his large bicep. Lois's eyes flew open.

Reality proved sobering as she jolted awake. Clark didn't have _any_ scars.

But Bruce did.

Her heart began to ache as a tightening sensation constricted her chest. It had felt _so _real. Clark's body, how it felt beside her, his smell, his touch and that he was once again with her. Clark still lingered with her; the shadows of what had once been, the lines had blurred so much.

But Clark was dead…it was too much. Longing for her husband ached in her bones and Lois felt nausea surge as her face grew cold. _It was only two weeks ago I said goodbye Clark, and now I've slept with your best friend. What have I done?_

She sat up along the edge of the bed as large tears formed, worked their way to the surface and splashed down her face. She silently sobbed, her body heaving despite the quiet and stillness in the room.

Bruce's hand found the small of her back, caressed it for a few minutes as he lay awake and silent. There were so many things he needed to say, but the not knowing what to say, his loss for words muted his tongue.

Lois needed to deal with the ghosts that haunted her.

As Bruce drifted off to sleep he did his best to ignore the waves of guilt that ebbed and flowed. Clark had just passed away, and Bruce had slept with his close friend's wife. _Clark, I'm so sorry, what have I done?_ This was not the way to honor the man who had sacrificed himself for so many. Far from it, they had to discuss what had happened in the morning.

Lois was an amazing woman; she deserved a hell of a lot better than that.

* * *

***

The hot water that streamed over his back, burned into the fresh cuts that ran the length of his back. Lois had been more than assertive; she was absolutely aggressive. A chill ran up his spine at the intoxicating thought, decidedly taboo yet it was undeniable he had enjoyed every minute last night.

Images continued to flash in front of Bruce in the steaming shower from the previous evening from the tense moments of anticipation between themselves, passionate play and the blissful aftermath that he shared with Lois when they had gotten swept up in the moment.

Bruce had experienced more conquests with beautiful women than he cared to admit, and most had been to enhance his playboy reputation or personal amusement for an evening. They had meant nothing.

Lois was different. It wasn't grieving the loss of his friend and her husband, it wasn't one drink too many, it wasn't lack of entertainment for either of them. There was something between them that he couldn't dismiss. There was a deep connection, he felt it.

This was different.

His hands slicked back the wet hair and leaned against the shower wall, his forehead rested against the marble and Bruce closed his eyes in thought. Alfred entered the bathroom to place warm towels and a clean robe before Bruce had finished the shower.

"You're up early Master Wayne," the older butler commented airily.

"It's after ten."

"Precisely. You in the upright and vertical position before two in the afternoon is something of a rarity."

"I couldn't sleep."

"It's just as well; it's a lovely day, not too cold despite the time of year. They said it would snow another foot but…" he sniffed, "I don't think so. It's as clear as a bell out there."

"I'll probably head into town today, there's a shareholder meeting. I may as well drop by and send a few heart rates up by stopping by. I won't have lunch here; I'll eat in the office today."

"I'll have the car ready soon sir," he commented in commonplace conversation between the two. "I've got a clean robe for you, seeing how you seemed to loose one in the kitchen last night…" Alfred's tone carried warning.

"Thank you Alfred." Bruce chose to ignore the argument his butler was begging to initiate.

"Ms Lane left early this morning, sends her regards and thanks for you hospitality but had to return to Metropolis. I believe she said she'd take the bullet train before noon."

"She left…." Regret filled his words. Lois left, more like sprinted he surmised.

"Didn't have anything to do with the robe in the kitchen…"

Bruce cracked the shower door, grabbed a towel and hastily wrapped it around his waist. Water cascaded down his frame and pooled on the floor on the carera marble tile. His eyes wide at Alfred's audacity and out right intrusion.

"That's none of your business."

"She's a nice lady; a remarkable person I might add," he commented.

"I know Alfred."

"So was her husband…"

"I _know_ Alfred." His expression darkened much akin to one that his alter ego wore. "And as I've said before, it's none of your business."

"It is my business. Mr. Kent was a hero, he sacrificed his life and saved the world along with everyone in it, has been only a memory for nearly two weeks and you shag his widow." Alfred's white crop of hair shook in disappointment.

"It didn't happen that way," he warned as anger mounted in his voice.

"But it did," Alfred commented with an increasing decibel. "_Exactly_ that happened, how else would you put it?"

"There were two people involved, and you make it sound as if we had an affair." Bruce exited the bathroom and yanked the freshly starched white shirt from the hangar.

"It's too soon," he countered.

"Her husband's _dead!_" Bruce thundered as he yanked on a pair suit trousers, paused and looked up with fury at his butler. "Do you think I _didn't_ try to save him? I did my best, and I _failed._" Bruce stood upright, closed his eyes in regret and exhaled. "I can't change what happened. I'm human; I'm not Superman."

"And you know better than anyone, sleeping with someone else will not make a ghost into a distant memory. It didn't work for you when Rachel died, and it won't for Lois either."

"I'm done discussing this," he growled and exited the bedroom. "I'm leaving in ten minutes."

* * *

***

The mindless droning about the up ticks in Wall Street, dividends for preferred stock, quarterly profit earnings flitted past as Bruce's legs ached in the long meeting. His eyes occasionally deviated from the spreadsheet graphics on display to the large conference room windows that overlooked the lake.

His hand slowly spun the water glass on the coaster as his CFO continued about future earnings and projected profits. At least the company was doing well despite the sharp financial downturn in the past few years. He knew other large corporations had not fared as well.

After the meeting concluded and proper greetings were dispensed with, Bruce quietly returned to his office. He sat in the chair, turned to look over the city and raked his hands through his hair in frustration as Lois Lane niggled back into his thoughts. She had managed to evade his conscience the majority of the meeting, but when he was alone, it was another story altogether.

* * *

***

The roaring noise of the bullpen was muted as Lois idly flicked a pen along the edge of her desk. She stared blankly at the wooden surface as Perry White entered the corner office.

"Busy day I take it?"

She flipped through the leather-bound daily planner. "Seems that way." She rubbed the blunt edge of the pen against her temple and scanned her chicken scratch handwriting. "Thanks for cramming every second of my day, am I going to even have time to take a piss?"

"You know you can get better info from the Mayor and senators than Polly or Gill," Perry commented to fluff her ego. "It's just not been the same when you were away. We're glad you're back."

The often blunt and gruff editor known more for tenacity than tact had side-stepped the mention of her late husband. He wasn't particularly skilled at personal issues.

"I'll make note to stick around more often if this is how you repay me."

"I did give you a new office and promotion; you're welcome by the way. Like the new desk?" He managed.

"It's a lot quieter," she took a swig of coffee "for everyone else out there. Now you can rake me over the coals in the privacy of my own little corner of the world, instead of public humiliation."

Perry scratched his head. "Don't worry Lane, there's plenty of time for public degradation at the morning meetings."

She remained deadpanned. "Fabulous. Looking forward to it." Truthfully, she was.

They both looked at each other with a mutual understanding that sometimes, words of sympathy were best left unsaid; that the wound would just have been ripped open again. Gestures of affection were far easier to bear. Lois and Perry hadn't spoken much since the funeral, and both preferred it that way.

The editor turned to exit the sparse room but paused by the door. "A few things Lois," he turned. "I forgot to add a lunch meeting with the all the assistant editors, including yourself, we've got another new member, the international section position was filled last week."

"Anyone I know?"

"Nope. His name's Richard White. Nice guy, every bit a boy scout; even you might like him."

Her eyes grew red and reflective as she fought tears. "Well, you know what happened to the last nice guy I met."

Perry nodded, closed the door and put his hand on Lois's shoulder. "I'm sorry Lois. Clark was important around here, everyone misses him. He was a hero Lois, to _everyone."_ His head shook as his brown eyes met hers. "I suppose that explains his frequent tardiness and frequent bathroom trips," he sighed.

Lois smiled fondly at the frequent expressions of confusion her employer wore when he exited meetings frequently that were dappled with prolonged absences.

"Perry, do me a favor."

"Anything kid."

"Tell me, does anyone else know?"

"Besides Olsen?"

Lois nodded as she blew her nose.

"No, and no one ever will. Clark's secret is safe."

"Thanks Perry, if I didn't know better, I'd say you're getting soft in your senior years."

"Maybe I am. But I'm not senile, get back to work Lane. You yourself said you haven't got time to take a piss."

She looked up, made her way to the windows that looked into the bullpen and shut the blinds to the left of her door. She couldn't bear to look at Clark's empty desk.

Lois turned to her desk, began to organize her day and adjust to the concept that she was assistant editor for the city division. As she did so, images of her evening flashed in front of her and she shivered. It had been incredible; she couldn't ignore the lustful longing that burned in her stomach at just the thought of the man in Gotham despite the underlining feeling that she felt degraded and flat out 'cheap.'

The new challenges of her assistant editor position vied for her concentration. It was beyond hectic for one day and the seemingly insurmountable tasks she needed to accomplish before noon. Lois planted Bruce Wayne firmly in the back of her mind as present tasks won her primary attention.

Thank goodness she didn't have a moment to herself. God bless Perry.

"Ms Lane, you have a phone call," her new secretary's voice came from the speakerphone.

"Who is it?" she asked distractedly. "Holy shit, how am I going to get _all _this done and be back in the office for the noon meeting?"

"It's Mr. Wayne, from Wayne Enterprises in Gotham."

Her stomach rotated upside down as her hands turned to ice.

"Take a message; I'm late for a meeting with the Mayor." Lois briskly gathered her messenger bag, PDA and coat. She bolted for the bathroom before making her way to the elevator, and once inside a stall, vomited.

"Get a grip Lane, really." She muttered to herself.

* * *

**You know the drill, please review. Let me know what works for you and what doesn't!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning: This isn't betaed. Also I lied. I said previously that I would have probably another chapter left to tie up the story. But this time I mean it! I need to write another chapter to finish it up the way I want to. Thanks for reading, and if you're still not keen on the idea of Lois and Bruce, just keep reading.**

* * *

The Darkest Hour Before Dawn: Chapter 4

It was a love and hate relationship that Lois had with her editor-in-chief. Perry had been more of a father to her than the general had been when he was alive, but often times she fantasized of running her supervisor over with her Audi when he raked her over the coals.

She had no idea how busy an assistant editor was until now, and the thought of running over Perry with her car seemed incredibly appealing at the moment as retribution for the ridiculous workload he gave her. Lois rocked back and forth in her chair and rubbed at her eyes that were red with strain from the long hours.

Lois felt waves of anxiety as she felt as if a sea of paperwork waiting for her approval, story pitch ideas and the influx of tips flowed into her office for the city department threatened to drown her. But she loved it. It was the rush of something new, the business of journalism and it rarely left time for her to think, let alone leave her office at a reasonable hour.

Lois looked down at her skirt that had been worn for what was possibly the third consecutive day, although she wasn't entirely sure as she flicked the crumbs from a stale granola bar she had found in her purse. Her schedule also hadn't left much time for food either.

There were days that she had arrived at Lucy's, collapsed onto her sister's couch fully clothed only to spring to life in the early hours of the morning and return to work. She began to contemplate pitching a cot on the corner; it would have saved on gas money.

The newest staff member, another assistant editor cracked the door to her office and stuck his head through the space. The noise from the bullpen flooded the small corner room.

"Ms. Lane?"

"Yes Mr. White, what can I do for you?"

The handsome man tentatively entered the paper-strewn office.

"I was just coming in to see if you were alright."

"Why does _everyone_ keep asking me that?" she sputtered in frustration. "I'll be fine," she grimaced and turned to face a pair of shockingly green eyes that were filled with concern.

It didn't help when people constantly directed looks of remorse, sympathy and grief her direction, just as this guy appeared to be doing. All it did was to reopen a wound that wouldn't heal. Her husband's death was a bitch to get over and it didn't help matters when she had so much work to do at the very same place of employment where Clark sat by her side for years.

"Well," he cleared his throat "I was just making sure you were doing alright getting your department ready for Sunday's edition."

"Oh," she clipped as her hands continued to sort through the stacks of articles that had been pitched to her. "Getting back to work is like riding a bike," she frowned at the papers that didn't appear any more organized. "Except this is a bigger bike and I don't have a clue what the hell happened to the training wheels," she laughed. "I'll figure it out though, preferably before Sunday."

Richard grinned at the metaphor, stepped closer to the flustered woman and began to look over her shoulder at the haphazard piles.

"I can relate. My first position as assistant editor was a bit overwhelming, I felt like I was drowning in a sea of paper. But I think you're doing really well."

"Oh you do Mr. White?" Lois eyed the mean with serious doubt.

"It's Richard, please. I really don't like being reminded that my Uncle's the Editor-in-Chief thank you very much." He began to flip through the stacks and looked up at her for approval. "And yes, I think you're doing a lot better than I did; the paper I started at was about half the size. The St Louis Post Dispatch is small potatoes compared to The Daily Planet. Personally, I'm impressed, Lois."

"Well Richard, thanks. I needed that." She picked up a cup of half consumed coffee, took a sip and soured her expression at the now cold beverage. "You know, this was warm about five minutes ago."

Richard took the cup from her hand and she looked at him questioningly.

"Come on Lois, I'll get you a real cup of coffee." He picked up her coat that had been slung over her chair and held it for her.

"There's coffee in the break room, I'll get another cup. Really, I've got too much to do."

He shook his head. "Nope, you're coming with me. This is the third day you've worn that skirt, you need to get out of the office for ten minutes."

"How did you notice that?" She marveled. "So it has been three days, I wasn't sure if it was three or two."

He laughed. "I notice things like that. Especially since it's happened to me, come on. Let's go."

"I'm really behind; but thanks, Richard. It's nice of you to offer."

"I'm not offering, I'm insisting."

"I don't have the time," she stressed with irritation in her voice.

His green eyes danced.

"Yes you do, especially since I'll be helping you. We can sort through this when we get back. You're no good to this paper if we have to ship you off to the hospital for exhaustion. Besides, my section's done."

"Done?" She queried with exasperation.

"You've got a bigger department. Come on Lane, let's go. 'The Grind' is just around the corner, they've got a french roast that's highly addictive." He ushered her to the elevator and punched the button.

"French roast?" Her eyes lit up and she managed a smile. "That's my favorite."

"Good choice, mine too."

"So Richard, you've got answer me a personal question," she posed as they made their way onto the elevator car.

"Sure." His impish expression sobered. "Anything."

"When exactly, have you worn a skirt three days in a row?"

His laughter erupted as they descended to the lobby.

That was the first time, the first moment she hadn't thought about her husband's death. It didn't last long, but wow did it feel good.

* * *

***

When Lois came back from the coffee, three scribbled messages of bright yellow post-it notes were plastered to her computer screen from her secretary. Richard had settled into a nearby chair and began to sort through some of the articles.

Lois exhaled in frustration, flopped into her chair and began to violently punch a phone number into the keypad.

"It's Lois Lane; The Daily Planet, put me through please."

Richard attempted to focus intently on the papers in front of him but found it difficult, as Lois's aggravated tone caught his attention.

She flicked her shoes off as she rolled her eyes at whoever had been on the other line.

"I don't care who the hell he's in a meeting with, Bruce called me three times in one hour. No, I'm _not _mistaken. If he's going to interrupt my day, then interrupt his…."

She frowned at the receiver. Her voice began to rise. "Look, I don't give a shit that he's busy, tell Mr. Wayne it's Lois Lane, put him on the phone NOW! I'm not making it up, I believe I've already told you that he's the one who called _me_. Get him on the _damn_ phone."

Lois drummed her nails rapidly along her desk as Richard watched her.

"Look lady, I've got my own secretary, I know you're all fully capable of doing your job description as I'd highly doubt Mr. Wayne would have just hired you because you're attractive in a skirt. Go do your job and get your boss on the phone."

She seemed to sense Richard's confusion as to why a billionaire would call her three times in an hour. She covered the receiver and turned to Richard as the other line was quiet.

"Yes?"

"Got something good brewing?" he queried.

"Not especially. An old friend," she responded.

"Oh. I had no idea you were on personal terms with the rich and famous."

"More than I'd care to admit," she groaned and then snapped upright as her attention returned to the telephone. "Bruce. What's so urgent that you've called me three times in an hour?"

Bruce's concerned voice filled the earpiece. "I've left you messages, more than just today."

"I'm aware."

"The way things were left between us…" he paused and sighed.

"What _things_ Bruce?"

Richard sat in an akward position, from the stiff body language, he wasn't entirely sure if he should exit the room or stay.

"You know. I don't really need to go into an explanation."

"I'm fine. Really, and I don't have time to talk about this. I'm at work."

"You don't sound fine."

"And neither do you, what, do you feel guilty?"

"This isn't something I'd care to discuss over the phone."

"What do you mean you don't want to talk about it over the phone? _You_ called me." She countered and began to pace with the short distance the phone cord allowed.

"I worry about you Lois."

"Yeah, so do a lot of people. Look, what happened…" she glanced at Richard who seemed to sense her eyes were upon him and she continued carefully "_it _happened. We're adults and can move on from there."

"Are you busy tonight?"

"I've been promoted to assistant editor to the city department for the largest paper in the nation and I have a Sunday edition to put out. Does that answer your question?"

"I've never worked in the journalism industry other than providing the occasional topic of interest. So no, it doesn't."

"Tabloids aren't the same thing."

"I'll see you later."

"_Don't_ come here Bruce…" she trailed as her stomach seemingly filled with lead.

"If you're not at your sister's at eight, I'll assume you're still at the Planet. Lois, we've got to talk about this."

The phone went silent and Lois grunted in frustration, slamming the receiver into its cradle.

"Damn it."

She raked her fingers through her hair, blinked and stared at the ceiling.

Lois had succeeded in refraining to think about Bruce Wayne and what had happened nearly a week ago, even though at times, her dreams had not let her forget what transpired. The flashes of the passionate exchange triggered a slight shiver up her spine despite her office setting and the new man who sat next to her, still attempting to digest the argument that had transpired in his presence.

Lois sighed and looked at the man who gazed at her questioningly of what flashed behind her eyes.

"Alright," he stood, brushed off his pants and rolled up his sleeves. "Let's get to it. And don't worry, I can stay late," he grinned.

"Richard, really, that's fine. You don't have to."

"I don't have a family to get home to, I'm new to the city, don't really have a lot of friends yet. I've got the time and I can be bought."

She looked at him with gratitude. "How am I ever going to repay you?"

"Chinese food."

He swiftly exited her office, and before she understood his abrupt departure, had returned brandishing a takeout menu.

"I'll have the egg drop soup and cashew chicken. I'd order soon, they get pretty busy around six in the evening, especially on a Friday night."

* * *

***

Lois paced her office, the rest of the bullpen except the cleaning staff had left for the evening and only the security lights were on. She knew she had to confront Bruce about what had happened between them, and it scared her.

Lois was scared shitless.

She greatly disliked the way her body hummed with energy when she just heard his voice earlier that day. She had absolutely no idea how she would react when he was actually near her.

This was ridiculous. She had to control herself, but couldn't ignore the odd sensation that hummed in every cell of her body just as before at the thought of what had transpired between herself and Bruce Wayne.

Tears began to fall as her hands shook in anger; frustration and despair with herself. She was recently widowed, not only to the strongest man of moral character, but who was a hero; an unattainable creature that somehow had been entranced by her as much as she was by him. Their romance had been the thing of legends.

Why the hell was her body betraying her husband's memory? It was appalling as much as it was disturbing.

Lois stopped her idle wanderings through the bullpen as her heart thudded against her sterum. She gasped for oxygen that had seemingly left the air as she looked down.

She was at Clark's empty desk.

Her legs became unsteady again, as no one else was present to observe the degradation of her seemingly impenetrable exterior and she collapsed in resignation into her late husband's chair.

Lois began to sob as a wave of anger and sadness washed over her. She was unable to stop it as she withered, folding her arms onto the desk and laid her head to rest. Her body convulsed without abandon.

After her body fatigued with spasms and a wave of tears had passed, she turned her head to the side, still resting on the surface and traced her hand along the edge. It lingered where she had often rested her backside against it, knowing full well that each time she had done so, Clark enjoyed the view.

She smiled fondly at the pleasant memory. Her hand continued as it traced across the worn handles of the drawers, stopping at each one, she pulled them open and searched them for any trace of her husband's memory at the otherwise stark and vacant work station.

In the bottom drawer, her hand clutched a small piece of warped metal. She turned it over and over in her palm and inspected it. Eventually she realized what it was; a bullet.

It was one that he had caught; it was the first time he had saved her life. He never told Lois he kept it. She sighed, pushed her hair from her face as fatigue set into her aching bones.

Lois's existence for only him ached when she was left behind. He was gone. She did what she had to do.

"Clark, honey, I love you and miss you so much it hurts," she choked. "I can't let you go, but I have to. I can't ever replace you. You know, Superman's kind of a tough act to follow." She smiled; for the first time, Lois was really able to begin to say goodbye to her husband. "But as much as I love you," she continued as her hand traveled fondly across the desk's surface "I _have_ to say goodbye."

She looked up into the sky through the large windows in the bullpen, recalling how many times she had searched them from that very vantage to search for him in the sky; except this time she knew he wouldn't be there.

"Please," she managed, "let me go, Clark."

Her eyes slid shut as she bit her lower lip. And she had thought returning to work would be the easier option in her life. Wow, what a mistake _that _was. Lois reached for the phone on the desk and dialed her sister's residence.

"Lucy, it's me, Lo."

"I was worried about you since you hadn't called that you were staying late again!" Her sister exclaimed in concern.

"I'm still at work, but I don't think I'll be long." Her nerve endings tingled as a movement was detected from the corner of her eye; it came from her office. "I've got to finish up a few things; I'll be there in thirty minutes. Thanks Lucy, for everything."

Lois refrained from returning to her office, she knew damn well who was there. Of course, heaven forbid any man in her life used a door. She stood and squarely turned, sitting on the edge of the desk.

She waited as her heart had suddenly risen into her throat as an impassable lump.

* * *

***

Bruce had attempted to contact Lois for nearly a week and each time he failed, the nausea and feeling of discomfort only increased. He needed to talk to her. The absolute last thing that he ever wanted was to leave her with the impression what had happened between them was another tally on his chalkboard of women.

Truth be told, she had managed to find her way beneath his skin in a way that no one; absolutely _no one_ had been able to do. Despite the need for his attention to Wayne Enterprises during the day and coupled with Batman's need in two cities, Lois never seemed to stray from his consciousness.

Bruce had the sense to recognize that he just didn't know how to let her go. He tried like hell to escape the yearing, the need to be near her but it was a futile. The ember continued to burn slowly; unshaken.

And he reviled himself for it.

As the car slipped through the streets to Metropolis, his mind continued to replay over and over again the bloody scene that he had been too late to fall upon. _He had regained consciousness after an incredible blow to his head, how long he had been out was questionable, but the haze that wobbled in his visual field provided some input of his surroundings; fortunately his hearing didn't betray him; he heard acutely where Superman's groans of anguish and misery were coming from. _

_Bruce inhaled sharply, the jagged stabbing sensation in his chest was nearly paralyzing in pain as he stood, found his footing and surged forward once again; like hell he'd let that monster destroy Superman. The arm that had been dislocated throbbed relentlessly as he managed a grappling hook from the utility belt and fired it. _

_Sweat prickled across his forehead as he flung himself into the air as the hook retracted the line across the deep cavern between the two buildings. When he landed, the blackness that teased along the edge of his vision threatened another bout of unconsciousness. _

_Batman stopped dead in his tracks as fear tightly constricted his chest. "No," his gravelly voice whispered. "No…" his eyes adjusted and found Lois Lane saturated in blood as it continued to seep from more wounds than he was able to count on her husband's unnaturally limp body. _

_Her face that was streaked with soot and blood of her own was contorted in incredible anguish as her screams filled the air. _

"_Please, no! No! No! Stay here Kal El! Stay, please!" Don't leave me, you can't leave me here." Her hand cradled his as more fresh blood ran down her arm. _

_She didn't seem to notice, nor cared as she bent her head forward and touched her forehead to Superman's. _

_Her trembling fingers shook as they traced along his face, his jaw and lips. She sobbed as she kissed him._

_She spoke to Batman without looking up. "We've got to get him to Met General. They've treated him before; Dr. Hamilton will know what to do." Lois looked up, her reddened eyes pleaded with Batman. "Please, hurry. Hurry!" She screamed as her body fell into another fit of convulsions. "Don't you dare let him die Bruce, please!" She turned to the still face of her husband. "I can't live without him." _

* * *

***

The footfall was almost unmistakable and given the later hours, Lois would have bet her life savings it wasn't anyone on staff. She looked up to see the man in black in her office through the windows.

His eyes shone despite the low light, seeming to beckon her from where she sat. Lois decidedly stood her ground.

"If you've got enough nerve to track me down against my wishes, then I'm not going to make it easy for you," she pronounced to the dark figure in her office.

Her leg crossed over the other as Lois leaned back against her palms on the desk. "If you want to talk to me, come get me."

"You know that's now how I operate." The dark caped profile remained firmly in the blackened confines of her private office.

"My office, my rules. If you don't like it, you found your way in, you can find your way out," she stated with authority.

Bruce knew full well, she was fiercely stubborn, more than himself but he wasn't without common sense. There were more than plenty of security cameras in the bullpen and he wasn't about to make an appearance as Batman with Lois Lane around.

Despite her late husband's faith in humanity, he knew far better that the dark side proved more alluring and it was nearly a guarantee that a security guard who was drastically underpaid and equally under qualified would leak that type of footage to anyone willing to pay the right price.

Lois was infuriating, but he held his temper. She was grieving the loss of her husband, he'd let it slide.

"Are there security cameras in your office?"

"In an assistant editor's office of the largest paper in the United States?" she snorted. "I don't think so."

"There's about a dozen on the floor," he observed without need for anymore explanation. Her shoulders sagged and he knew she understood.

Her leg that had been crossed over the other rocked back and forth as she continued to look directly at him.

"This was Clark's desk, did you know that?"

"I gathered."

She remained anchored to the desk and turned her head to the side. "That was mine. Right next to it," she motioned. "And every day, I get to come here, and look at them," she stood and slowly began to make her way back to her office.

Batman remained still.

Lois continued. "Each time I see his empty desk, my heart gets ripped out of my chest. Again, and again…" she opened the door to her office and slammed it with authority. "And again."

"I don't suppose it's particularly easy."

"No, it isn't. In fact, a little more of me dies each time."

She continued around the room and closed the remained of the blinds to the interior and exterior windows. Lois calculatedly but one foot in front of the next and nearly stood directly on top of Batman's toes, she looked down at her feet and could feel the warm breath of his on her neck as he exhaled.

"It's hell," she admitted.

"You know Lois, it hasn't exactly been a picnic for me either," Batman's dark voice faded as Bruce's became more recognizeable. "I've played over and over again in my head what happened, if I could have been there faster, warned him somehow…" he sighed, pulled the cowl from his head and raked his hair away from his face. "But I was too late." His eyes searched hers earnestly. "Believe me, I've got my own personal hell and demons to deal with."

She stepped closer and rested her hand upon the firm sternum of his suit and examined his features that were riddled with remorse. "Bruce, why are you here?"

"I worry about you."

"I've got an over protective editor who's promoted me for fear that I'll break without Superman nearby, a sister who calls me nearly every half hour, a mother-in-law who I talk with daily. I've got plenty of people who worry about me. I really don't need another."

"But I do."

"If it's your guilty conscience, consider yourself absolved," she flung her hand up, spun away and grabbed her coat. "I don't blame you for what happened Bruce; I told you that in the hospital the day he died."

His arm moved to hold Lois in her tracks. "I blame myself for what happened a week ago Lois. We slept together."

"I'm aware."

"And you can't pretend it _didn't_ happen," his voice rose.

"Why not? It's best for both of us if we do. You've got a life in Gotham that seems pretty busy at present, and I'm doing the best I can to figure out what's left of mine."

"Sleeping together changes everything."

"No Bruce, it doesn't. We are two _very_ different people; it's actually quite easy for us to go our separate ways."

The logic was there, yet her voice seemed as though it completely contradicted what ached inside her.

The images that flashed past her stream of consciousness of his face against her bare chest caused her face to suddenly flush.

Lois looked at the brown eyes that darkened with lust that had less than subtly been noticeable in hers despite the dim room. Her hand traced along his hairline as he sighed.

"It didn't mean _anything_ to you…" he prodded as her fingertips caressed his temple.

She swallowed and stepped backward, somewhat astonished that her own body betrayed her.

Bruce stepped forward, again closing the gap between them. He felt the heat nearly pouring from her body.

His eyes darted back and forth as he searched her again, seemingly pleading. "Nothing…" he commented again as his own heart banged against his ribcage.

Lois bristled. "I had an itch," tears formed "and you scratched it."

His heart sank.

"Is that why you came here?" she mused. "To see if I'd have another go?"

Bruce's resolve hardened. "I came here, tonight because I've been trying to talk to you for the past week and you've completely shut me out."

"And you didn't get the picture that I didn't want to talk to you?"

"I need to talk to you. Something _is _different between us, everything has changed." His voice grew as he inched closer to her again. "I can't explain it, can _you?_ And don't lie to me. I don't put up with bullshit either Lois."

She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "What do you want me to say to you Bruce? That when we had sex with each other it was damn near if not _the_ most incredible _fuck_ of my life? Is _that_ what you want to hear? Does that make you satisfied? That my husband was buried _three_…count them, _three weeks_ ago and I can't seem to get _you _out of my head? That _every_ time I think about where your hands and the _rest_ of you have been," she paused as another shiver rippled through her flesh "that I want _more?_" Her eyes glared at him with fire. "Is _that_ what you want to hear? Are you _satisfied?_ I feel like _complete_ shit, I'm disgusted with myself and I _can't_ stop wanting to have you again."

Bruce's mouth hung open as his heart raced.

"Say something Bruce. You came all this way to stare at me, or what?"

His hands flew to her face, drew Lois near and aggressively kissed her. Her lips burned against his as she gasped in surprise. As her mouth opened, he took full advantage of her hesitation and persisted with his aggression; surging his tongue fully into her mouth. He felt every muscle of her frame that was now firmly pressed against his suddenly turn limp as she seemed to melt into him.

Bruce's eyes flew wide open as Lois paused and pulled herself away. Her stomach lurched as each inch of her skin crawled with heated energy.

A flock of butterflies had formed and seemed to beat against every surface of her stomach. In a rare display of vulnerability, his hand tenderly brushed away the hair that had fallen in her face.

"Well," she swallowed. "I guess you don't need to say much do you?"

The corners of his mouth twitched, betraying the somber expression on his face. "You asked me why I came here."

She sighed. "Bruce, I can't…"

"I know you've been widowed for only three weeks, I've just lost my best friend, whom you were married to."

"So you can see why this isn't the best idea."

He shook his head. "It's not, but I don't really feel like I have a choice."

"Yes Bruce, you do. You keep your hands to yourself." Her hands flashed in the air. "See? Here's me, not touching."

"You know damn well it's not that simple."

"Really? I'm still over here, still not touching you."

"Lois, Clark is _dead!_"

Silence hung between them except for the ticking of the office clock on the wall.

Bruce continued quietly. "He's _not _coming back. At what point is it going to register with you that neither of us has done anything wrong?"

She began to shake her head as tears began to splash down her cheeks. She collapsed into a chair. "I don't know Bruce. It feels wrong."

"Clark loved you, and to be honest, I can see why. I don't think he'd want you pining away for him for the rest of your life."

"I know that. Clark was a bit on the selfless side," she sniffed. "Call it a hero complex. But I need time, I just can't let him go yet. When I was in your bed, I woke up and swore he was still alive, that it was him I had just made love to. It's not fair to anyone that way."

"No," he conceded. "I suppose not." He leaned down, took her hand in his and kissed her on the cheek. "Goodnight Lois," he stood to his full height and slipped the cowl back over his head and adjusted it. "You know how to find me."

She managed a smile, turned to retrieve her purse from the floor and when she looked up, he had disappeared.

* * *

**Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Please leave a review and let me know what you think. I haven't gotten many, maybe it's not that great of a story arc. Who knows, I just had to write it anyway. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning; This isn't betaed, so read at your own risk. I know it's a bit off the cuff as far as fics go, but at least in my opinion it's an entertaining plotline. I hope you find it entertaining. **

* * *

Chapter 5

Lois's antsy fingers rapidly clicked the end of her ball point pen. Her eyes flitted across the table, to the window, and back to the assistant editor across from her at the table. Richard's content expression starkly contrasted the look of pure irritation that had so nicely complimented the intermittent eye rolls from Lois.

Really, she had absolutely no idea how he was able to stomach these meetings. Not only had the chair seemed to burn into her ass, but the news of the paper's financial standings grew increasingly depressing with each passing month.

Subscriptions and ad revenues were down; newsstand sales had also been sluggish. But costs of production were up, along with utilities and the occurrences at which they had run ghastly over budget. None of the news was good. Lois knew what was coming; cuts. Everyone was doing it; it was only a matter of time before staff at the Planet were sacrificed.

Lois's eyes drifted to the large window in the conference room again and glazed over.

"Any ideas folks? I'm open to suggestions…we've got to cut $10,000 for next month," Perry's tired voice continued.

"I'm not cutting corners on city," Lois defended.

"I'm not asking you to."

"It's what's been happening to every other paper across the country. No one wants to read them any more. Quality has been compromised to sub-par standards; I won't do it. The Daily Planet is the last hold out."

Perry pushed the rolled-up sleeves above his elbows in a reflexive manner and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Lois, I'm not asking us to compromise our standards, I'd be the last person here to suggest it. Let's face it though; we've got to figure something out. Over the past year and a half things have changed," he refrained, hesitant to continue with the line of commentary everyone had thought but been afraid to mention; particularly in Lois's presence.

"Say it Perry," she challenged and looked her editor squarely. "Since Superman died, no one wants to read what we're printing. Superman's not a daily headline anymore," she sighed. "I'm not stupid," she stood, scooted her chair away and moved to exit the meeting early. "Do you think that hadn't occurred to me? Don't pussyfoot around the real reason why our revenue is down just on my account."

The door slammed in its frame as she strode back to her office. Sadness reflected in the old editor's eyes. He did the best he could to delay the harsh reality from Lois; that Superman had kept up revenue and circulation while other papers had been failing. Without him, the Planet wasn't any different. They weren't invulnerable anymore.

* * *

***

Lois returned from the corner lunch cart, greasy bag in tow as she plunked down into her chair and flipped through a steno pad. Her eyes zipped across her scrawled scratch of ideas of stories, pitches and tips for her to assign to staff in her department.

Richard had quietly followed her into the office, leaned against the closed door and folded his arms across his chest. He raised an eyebrow in waiting.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He ventured.

Lois kept her eyes on the pad of paper that she flipped through.

"Not particularly."

He walked over to the woman, yanked the steno pad from her hands and sat on the edge of her desk; giving Lois no other option than to attend to him. He put his hands over hers and looked into her eyes.

"You need to talk about it."

"Richard, I'm fine. I'm sick of Perry handling me like a child, that's all."

"Maybe he would if you stopped acting like one."

Her eyes blistered white hot in Richard's direction. "What?"

"That was one hell of a temper tantrum in there."

"I'm allowed." She censored herself. Lois wasn't about to admit to Richard that Superman was her spouse.

"Why? Because you were Superman's press secretary?"

"No," she paused in self restraint. _Because Superman was my husband, and Perry knows it._ "Because I'm not allowed out to play with others. I could write circles around those guys."

"Which is why you belong in charge of them."

"Bullshit, Richard," she spat. "You and I both know I'm not cut out for this editor position. I'm better off in the field."

"You can't save this paper all by yourself," he soothed. His hands traveled up her arms and came to rest on her shoulders. He looked at her with concern as he began to smile. "But somehow I don't think that's going to stop you from trying."

She leaned forward, touched her forehead to his and inhaled deeply. "Do you think you can handle both sections?"

He nodded. "With your help."

She kissed him softly on his lips, pulled back and looked at him affectionately. "You drive a hard bargain, White."

Richard kissed her again. "I've heard my powers of persuasion are pretty good."

She laughed as he mumbled between their closed lips. "Is it working?"

"Deal."

"You're distracting Richard, you know that?"

"Mmm" he managed in a moan as his fingers began to unfasten the buttons of her collared shirt.

Her eyes flitted shut as she tipped her head back. Richard's tongue began to trace along the musculature in her neck to her collar bone. His aftershave tingled in her nose

"You are an evil man," she purred. "In the office?"

"If you're not going to keep your own office…." He trailed as his voice grew more rushed.

"You're stalling me…" her hand pulled away and began to unfasten the buckle of his pants. "You know damn well I want to hit the streets for a story ASAP."

"So? I don't hear any objections," he grinned.

"Oh I object,"

His eyebrows rose.

"I love you so much Lois," he whispered as his hands began to rock her pelvis.

"I'd sure as hell hope so," she returned as she wrapped her hands around his firm back.

A sudden heavy knock on the door startled both individuals. They looked at each other in pure sexual frustration.

"I'm busy, what is it?" she managed calmly.

"Lane, I need to talk to you."

"Can it wait five minutes?" She yelled as Richard continued to plant kisses along her neck.

"Now, Lois. It's important," irritation was clear in her superior's voice.

"Richard and I are in the middle of something."

"Unlock the door Lois. It's the last time I'm telling you, otherwise you'll be on the 'Top Tips' column for a year."

Richard pulled himself from her and had begun to hastily refasten his pants. Lois's eyes grew wide as the door jostled in the frame.

"Coming Perry," she called.

Richard's face soured at the comment.

Lois turned her back to finish fastening the buttons on her shirt as Richard opened the door to her office. She hoped to heaven her face wasn't as flushed as it felt. Perry wasn't stupid. He knew they had been dating, and a locked door probably meant one thing.

"Lois, I've just gotten off the phone with Wilkins upstairs," he stated gruffly, then sat in the chair across from her desk. He sighed before continuing. "Since both of you are management, I'm letting you know before anyone else, that The Daily Planet's been sold."

Both heads immediately snapped in attention to the visibly fatigued editor. Richard's mouth hung open in surprise. He was the first to speak.

"Why didn't you tell us that this was in the works?"

"I didn't know," his shoulders shrugged as mutual confusion furrowed his grey brow.

"I don't think anyone did. It just happened."

"When?" Lois asked.

"Five minutes ago. A single owner," his eyes shifted between the two assistant editors.

A look of dread spread across Lois's now paled face. "It's not Lex Luthor. Please, Perry," her eyes pleaded with him.

After Superman's death Lex Luthor had been able to slip into the shadows again and had worked his way up the food chain in the year and a half. He had done quite well for himself, as it seemed he hadn't lost his flair for corporate cunning, along with mergers and acquisitions.

To Lois and Perry's disgust, Lex Luthor had become a corporate giant, powerful and influential beyond the confines of Metropolis. The rest of the world had an amazingly short memory of such atrocities he committed.

"It's not Luthor. Don't worry, your jobs are fine."

"Richard's job is fine," Lois commented as she breathed a sigh of relief.

Both men turned to her.

"Perry, I'm resigning my assistant editor position. I'm going back to my old job," she stated with a finality that left no room for discussion.

"Lois, I can't do that. Your old position has been filled. I need you as assistant editor."

"I'm crap; we all know I'm not meant for this sort of thing. I'm a field reporter. That's it," she threw her hands up. Her eyes darted to her old desk that was no occupied by foreign stacks of paper, photos and scribbles, then to the empty desk next to it. "And I know my old position has been filled. But Clark's hasn't."

"Fine Lois," Perry agreed. "If that's what you want."

She smiled as she looked at her late husband's desk. "I've never been surer of anything lately." She bent down, picked up her shoulder bag and fished the keys from the pocket. "I'll clear out my things tomorrow, but I've got a lead to follow." She opened the door and lingered in the frame. "I won't be back in after; I've got to pick up my son from daycare."

* * *

***

It had been six months since Lois Lane resigned from the assistant editor position and almost instantly, had settled back into the old role of a field reporter.

Lois cradled the phone receiver between her head and shoulder as both hands flew across the keyboard. "Uh huh," She glanced occasionally at the keyboard and back to the screen. "Right, now tell me what makes you so certain that Congressman Iverson didn't take the money? Everything seems to look pretty doubtful."

Her hands refrained from typing and scratched notes from the caller, and then she continued. "Well thank you for your information, I'll be sure to follow up." She rolled her eyes as the receiver slammed into the base. "Right, an honest politician," she laughed to herself. "And pigs will fly."

"Lois," Richard called from across the newsroom floor, "Do you want me to pick up some take-out for dinner?" She looked up distractedly and pointed to the phone. Shortly after, the telephone at her desk rung. "Cashew Chicken," she smiled. "And a Diet Coke."

"How is it that you're able to get such creditable sources and be taken so seriously if that's how you answer your phone," a familiar man's voice replied.

Lois sat straight up, at attention. Her heart immediately plummeted when Bruce Wayne's voice reached her ear. It was a voice she hadn't heard in nearly two years. "I, I was expecting someone else," she wasn't able to hide the surprise in her voice.

"Still," he replied. "I could have been someone important."

She looked up, Richard had approached her desk. "I tried to get you on the line but it went right to voice mail," he shrugged. "Who is it?"

Her hand waived to silence him. She swallowed the cold coffee at her desk to delay the conversation and recoup her composure. It worked.

"Funny, the phone didn't ring as an outside call," she pondered to Richard. "It came as an internal one."

"Maybe the switchboard connected you," he theorized.

Lois uncovered the mouthpiece, turned from her boyfriend and hunched over the desk as she propped both elbows onto the wooden surface. "What are you doing calling me?" she hissed.

"Business."

"I'm busy Bruce. I'm in the middle of cracking a hot story wide open, nursing a source and trying to get a piece in before deadline. So unless you've got a juicy lead for me, I've got to go." She moved to remove the phone from her ear but paused. "How, by the way did you manage to get the phone to ring as an inside line? And don't' tell me it was an accident. I know how your warped mind works. You get off on the element of surprise."

"I'm in Metropolis."

"Great, I'm glad you travel outside the confines of Gotham, must be easy when you've got your own plane and helicopter at your beckon call," she grumbled. "But you're not answering my question. And you know it's annoying as hell when you're so damn evasive."

She took another swig of cold coffee and scrunched her nose in disgust.

"When the Daily Planet was purchased six months ago from a single silent owner, had it ever occurred to you why jobs, including yours weren't subject to termination?" The cup slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor. Everyone's head nearby turned at the sudden spill.

Her heart began to pound loudly as her mouth ran dry. "The thought had crossed my mind," she stated, attempting to feign only a mild interest.

"Since you're well aware that I'm not fond of telephone conversations, particularly through a line that more than likely is recorded, I'd prefer to speak with you personally."

Lois laughed. "Do I have a choice?"

"Not entirely."

"Right, well I've got to deadline I need to make, so if you wouldn't mind calling me about it tomorrow," she rubbed her temples in frustration.

"I was thinking in about five minutes, and your deadline can be extended."

She shoved her purse in the file cabinet below her desk and locked it. "Well, I guess being the owner of the Daily Planet comes with that type of power," she paused, withdrew her purse on second thought and slung it over her shoulder. "I take it you're in the office today."

* * *

***

Bruce slowly put one foot in front of the other as he tread a path along the floor to ceiling window of his still unfamiliar office at the Daily Planet. It remained cold, stark and lacked any personal effects that would breathe life into it. Despite the warm gleaming wood floors, the polished bookshelves that lined the walls, capstone of the office was an ancient desk as old as the Daily Planet itself; it was still an empty and unused executive suite in the old art deco building.

It was a stark contrast to the slick and unblemished lines of the modern office at Wayne Enterprises, but the woman who sat in a large leather chair in the Planet's office concluded both would have shared one important common denominator, neither held any splashes of Bruce Wayne's personality. Not the real one, anyway.

Bruce continued to provide Lois with any sort of eye contact as he continued to look out the large windows, walking back and forth slowly, methodically. Neither said anything despite the energy that crackled in the air. The handsome man slipped his hands into the pockets of the charcoal grey suit and paused; leaning against the window on his shoulder he turned and finally looked at Lois. It was nearly two years since he had seen her and despite the anticipation of their reunion, he knew Lois and knew full well that it wasn't going to be the friendliest of such encounters.

But he wasn't able to shake her, what had happened between them was different, and despite the time that had elapsed between their encounter, he knew it was pointless to continue so. The Daily Planet's financial downturn was merely one of convenience and an opportunity for him to amend a wrong; that he hadn't been able to save Clark, but the very least he could do was to save the paper that Clark had poured so much of himself into.

"I suppose there's no need of small talk," he finally managed in a confident tone that even surprised himself.

"I'm not a fan." Lois folded her arms to shield her chest as she sat back in the chair.

"Neither of us are," his dark eyes penetrated her. "I didn't buy the paper because of you."

"I never said you did."

"True, but we both know you thought I did."

"The idea had crossed my mind," she conceded. She'd allow him one credit for his uncanny perceptive nature.

"I'm thrilled you didn't think I considered you in that high regard."

"Bruce, why are you here?" She interjected. "Why am_ I_ here?"

It was why she was in his office, why they were having a face to face conversation after two years of separation.

"I happened to recently acquire the largest paper in the nation and at some point; I needed to make an appearance."

"You could have warned me."

"And I doubt you would have picked up the phone."

"That's such a crap excuse. That's never stopped you before from paying me a visit," she eluded to his dark knight counterpart.

"I wanted to leave you alone, you told me it's what you wanted," he finally admitted. His brown eyes shone in the bright light that filtered in from the window. His chest expanded as he sighed. "I gave you what _you _wanted, Lois. It's not what I wanted."

She contemplated what he had said and nodded silently, stared blankly at the floor and then looked up at Bruce, doing her damned best to ignore the chill that traveled down her spine.

"So what did _you _want, Bruce?" She knew all too well, they both did. But she had to ask anyway.

He remained quiet and slowly his feet made their way, one in front of the other, to where Lois sat. He leaned forward, looking directly into her eyes and braced his arms on the armrests of the chair. His aftershave tingled in her nose as his face lingered inches from her own. Her skin began to burn.

"You."

She remained planted in the chair and again, refused to trust the mysterious emotions that began to seep from the depths of her, the lustful urge from someplace she had thought had been buried caused her body to hum.

"Me." Lois remained deapanned.

"Yes, is that so complicated?"

"It was, we both know why and don't pretend you've got no idea what I'm talking about."

The uncomfortable but honest volley of conversation continued.

"Is two years long enough?"

"Things are different now, they're not the same they were two years ago."

"I still feel the same, Lois. Do you?"

One would think after two years, her mind would have forgotten the sensation of the ripples of energy, the tingling that raced across her naked flesh as his fingers had brushed over them… she had to stop herself.

"I'm involved with someone," she answered.

"Lois," he pressed, well aware she had evaded an answer. "I didn't ask you if your dance card was full, and I don't care if you've got plans for Friday night."

"Well you should care," she retaliated. "Richard is a wonderful man. He's hard working, honest, compassionate, loving, dedicated…"

"Lois, you're describing a golden retriever."

"Look, Bruce, I've moved on with my life after my husband passed away, a life that does not include you. I'm with Richard, he's a good man."

"I'm sure he is, but he's not Clark. Stop trying to make him someone else."

"You're an _asshole_," she growled.

"True, but I'm an honest one, which is more than I can say for you."

"Fuck off," she spat. "You don't know a damn thing about my life now."

"You know, Lois, someone once wrote that nobody ever believes the truth."

Lois wanted to explode, to scream with every bit of fervor in Bruce's face.

"_I don't trust myself. Alright?" She screamed. Her voice echoed through the empty room. "Does it give you some sense of gratification that despite how long it's been that I've seen you, let alone touched you…" she paused and visibly shook. "That I still feel that I don't have any sense of control?" She grinned bitterly and laughed. "Because believe it or not, just the mere thought of you makes my legs quiver."_

"_You've got to be kidding."_

"_Of course I'm kidding, but that's what you want to hear, isn't it?" _

_He didn't respond, only stood inches from her as her hand recoiled and struck him soundly across his jaw. _

Lois blinked, inhaled deeply and looked up, back into the eyes of the man whom she had just fantasized of slapping soundly across his chiseled jaw. Contrary to the incredibly vivid images that flashed in front of her consciousness, Lois hadn't moved an inch from the chair, and neither had Bruce. His thick arms remained firmly on either side of her. She felt the heated air between them as his shallow breathing matched hers.

His low voice rumbled and caused a prickle to trail down her spine. "Lois, I'm not asking if you're involved with someone, I'm asking if you still think about me, the way I think about you."

Her vision blurred as she choked on words that seemed as though they would not come._ I want nothing more than to strip off your clothes and fuck you._

She blinked, swallowed and stared him as she heard her own voice speak on her behalf.

"Yes." It was all she was able to say.

Bruce's dark eyes flickered; he leaned forward on the chair as Lois felt her body prickle with goosebums as she smelled his strong smell on the neck of the man whose head was merely centimeters from her own.

He leaned to her side, over his shoulder and Lois could feel his eyes traveling along her hairline, her ear, neck as if he searched for something.

Her hand had found the back of his neck and trailed up along the ravine to the nape of his hair. At her touch, his expression changed, from one of astonishment to one of understanding. The index finger that traced along Bruce's hairline made it's away along the tip of his ear to his jaw, tipping his head to force his eyes to meet with hers.

Lois inhaled sharply. "Bruce, I don't trust the way I feel with you."

"Why is that such a bad thing?" he rumbled.

"Because, I'm used to being in control of my life."

"So am I." He murmured in a deep voice that made Lois shiver. "But I'm not when I think about what happened to us, I'm not going to lie about it. Like I've said before, why would I lie to you?" A vastness came over the man, he seemed lost. As if he didn't have a choice and how innately drawn he was to her.

"Bruce I don't follow…" she whispered, searching the man as if he had another answer.

"I'm drawn to you; I don't know how to stop it. I can't," he professed as he took her face in his palm. He bent forward and kissed her, deeply inhaling her scent, drinking of her lips and melting into her flesh.

Lois pulled away, her eyes wide in disbelief how quickly the iron walls she had erected eroded into wispy vapors of recollection.

Despite the two years that had elapsed, the bitter resentment of their friendship that deteriorated, Lois found herself as helpless as Bruce, who looked at her, forlorn and stripped of any pretentiousness.

She felt how every inch of her body and his wanted to meld with each other. And it rattled her. Lois hadn't felt this magnetic and spellbinding attachment than to anyone other than Clark. Nothing had changed.

Her hands grasped Bruce, pulling him on top of her frame and tasted his lips, her fingers aching to feel his warm skin beneath her hands as she spread apart his shirt. Her skin raged afire, blistering with a pent-up repression of everything she had shoveled into the dark corners of her conscience. Everything spewed forth, as her hands ripped open his shirt, to only slide down his rippled abdomen.

She gasped as he mirrored her actions, as his hands traced along the contour of her breasts that remained in the confines of her sleek black bra. Lois arched her back as Bruce's hand swiftly unfastened the bra and discarded it, along with her shirt. Her eyes flung wide as he pulled her up from the seat from her firm ass, grinding her pelvis against his that gave every indication he strongly desired to repeat the sordid evening between them two years ago.

This time, she didn't stop him. They both knew she wanted it as badly as he did.

Lois licked along the fold of his neck and savagely bit his ear, causing the man to groan in pleasure. Bruce began to ravage her, roughly trailing along her torso to her navel, his hands lingered along her waistline, his tongue traced up the ravine of her abdominals.

As he continued to tease her, Bruce looked up at her in wicked torment, raising an eyebrow with an incredible sexiness about him, a dominant behavior he pulled her skirt from her hips to the floor, leaving Lois nearly naked, except for the matching black thong he admired.

"Black."

"Uh huh," she commented.

"My favorite color."

A lopsided grin of impishness formed as Lois looked down at the man who knelt in front of her with his eyes blazing in desire.

"You're amazing, Lois," he murmured before standing on his feet, and pressed his body firmly against hers.

Bruce pushed her onto the large desk in his office and lowered himself over her, planting a trail of kisses along her shoulder and up her neck.

Lois's eyes rolled back into her head in ecstasy and heated anticipation of what they both knew was about to happen.

"I don't want you to stop, ever, Bruce."

Every muscle in Bruce's body relaxed as he felt Lois's warm soft skin against his. It felt right, through all the darkness of the past few years, through the self-loathing and longing, things were as they should be. Neither of them could change what had transpired, in the death of his friend, the fateful night at Wayne Manor and five minutes ago, but they could move on, continue forward and perhaps salvage what was the foundation for a strong realtionship. One more profound than he'd had with any woman.

As Lois's eyes inspected in the brilliant daylight that streamed through the window, she searched the scars, followed her finger as it traced up the ravines between his muscles that lead to his face and smiled.

"What have we done?" she asked quietly and with an air of smugness, of a cat that got the cream.

"Something amazing, I'm pretty sure." His dark eyes gazed upon her. "Lois, I don't regret what's happned between us. I just want you to understand how much you mean to me."

She leaned forward and as her eyes floated closed, brushed her lips across his. She froze as her half-closed eyes flew wide open, looking at the clock on the wall.

"Tell me the clock in your office is wrong."

"It is," he whispered as he planted kisses along her neck. "It's five minutes fast."

"Oh _shit_," she hissed, spinning as her voice grew in panic. "I've got to go, Bruce. I _can't_ be late."

"Sure you can. I'm late all the time."

"Bruce, you own _everything_," she managed to wiggle her undergarments, skirt and shirt back on. "You can be late for anything. Which, by the way, since you now own a newspaper, need to become a little more familiar with deadlines..." Lois trailed as she jammed her heels onto her feet.

"It can't be that important. Whatever it is can wait."

"I'd doubt you'd understand." She flew about the room for her coat and purse, then back to the bewildered yet still naked man, leaned forward and kissed him. Lois briefly lingered, as if her lips wanted to remain with him, however, her feet had other ideas.

"You've got to meet a source, don't you?" He made no apologies for his still nude frame.

She grinned, eyeing his muscular frame. "Something like that," Lois called as she sprinted to the elevator.

* * *

***

Lois tossed over and over in her mind the ridiculously complicated situation she found herself with Richard and Bruce. Richard was amazing, better than what she deserved, kind, loving and selfless. Bruce was brooding, quiet at times, flashes or arrogance, extravagant, a hero with a darker driving force, he was nothing like Richard. But the way she felt with Bruce, Lois shivered.

Richard had _never _made her feel that amazing addictive sense of passionate abandon the way Bruce had. And it wasn't just once. Lois had never been able to shake Bruce from her mind, despite the desperate repetitions she made to attempt it.

Richard didn't deserve her, that much she was certain of, but she shared a home with him and he had been more than welcoming to her son. Not many men would love so effortlessly a child that wasn't theirs so quickly, but Richard had bonded so easily with her son.

Heaviness weighed upon her chest as she made her way briskly through the familiar streets to the daycare center. She knew that when she arrived home to the apartment she shared with Richard, she had to tell him what had happened. Not exactly who, or literally what had transpired, but that things between them just weren't leaving her with a sense of completeness.

Bruce was an enigma of sorts, but she knew the darker and more caring sides of the quiet man that few people understood. Lois was fully aware the soft underbelly of his vulnerability wasn't something he cared to expose too many individuals, nor his dual identity. However, considering her late husband, it wasn't so difficult for him to do so.

Lois grinned as she spied the sandy mop of brown hair bobbing as her son weaved around other children in the daycare finger-painting station. Chelsea, one of the staff was fighting a loosing battle to remove the remainder of green finger-paint from her son's cheeks as she chased him with a brandished washcloth.

Her son stopped in his tracks as he saw his mother, his pale eyes twinkled impishly as an amazing smile spread across his face. "Mommy!" He ran to his mother, as his short arms stretched outward.

"Joshua!" She grinned and swept her son into her arms. The toddler nuzzled his face into his mother's shoulder as Lois carried him out the door.

* * *

***

Lois never noticed how unfriendly the sidewalks of Metropolis were to strollers. Despite the less than smooth ride of the stroller that careened along the city sidewalks, Joshua seemed content with his mother and craned his head, looking up between the caverns of skyscrapers, searching for the twilight sky above.

"Mommy, I'm hungry."

"Me too," Lois commented as she looked both ways before crossing the intersection. There were only one more block and the ache in her new brown leather pumps reminded her each step that she should have broken them in before hauling a nearly two-year old boy 3 city blocks. "I forgot to pack your snack, Joshua. But I promise we'll find something for you when we get home."

Her son's nose scrunched momentarily at his mother's admission that he would remain hungry until they returned home, but quickly resumed his normal inspection of the slick glass and stone facades of the buildings.

"Mommy,"

"Yes Josh," Lois began to fumble for her cell phone that started ringing.

"The sky is pretty."

She looked up briefly at the brilliant colors above the cavern of steel and glass. "Yes it is," Lois admitted. She usually avoided looking up because if she did, often times, Lois still found herself looking for her late husband in the sky.

"Lois Lane," she spoke to the mouthpiece of her cell phone that she managed to wedge between her ear and shoulder.

"Ms Lane, I know we met earlier today, but I've got some more interesting information for you about the connection to Gotham…" the man trailed.

"When do you want to meet?" she looked down at her son and frowned. She wasn't going to take a toddler to meet a source. Lois vowed to never involve Joshua in anything work related. It was too risky and she knew anyone bitter would salivate over using her son as bait for a bribe or threat.

"Tonight, the old MLK bridge underpass. In an hour."

Lois sighed and looked at her watch. She knew feeding her son dinner and fighting traffic to the old bridge that was scheduled for demolition would be a tight squeeze as far as time constraints were concerned. But she agreed.

"Alright. What have you got?"

"As if I'd tell you over the phone."

"Can't blame me for wanting to avoid traffic."

"It will be worth it. You'll get your Pulitzer for sure, Lois."

Bruce and Richard weren't the only subjects on her mind that evening; she had a suspicion that she was being followed. Much to Richard and Perry's objection, she had continued on with the Luthorcorp and intergang bribery piece that linked not only Metropolis's assistant district attorney's office to intergang, but to Gotham's underworld as well. The two gangs had united and were staging a hostile takeover of both cities. One, she feared, neither city would recover from despite Batman's attempts otherwise.

Even though Superman wasn't there with his ever present protection of Lois from her often cavalier and wild investigations, she refused to let the dark side of Metropolis win. They would not take over this city if it was the last thing she ever did. Superman's efforts to keep Metropolis as a beacon on a hill would not die in vain.

A cold chill prickled at the back of her neck as she slid her hand into her pocket for a mirrored compact, feigned a makeup inspection and as she did so, her blood turned to ice. Someone had been following her. And she knew the shadow well; he was definitely someone Luthor had employed and one who was sent to lower the hammer. She'd been in that position a multitude of times, but never with Joshua. She had wanted to avoid any involvement with her son. Today was no exception.

She began to quicken her pace slightly after the mirror was returned to her coat pocket. Except her hand lingered in her pocket, grasping tightly the stun gun she carried with her for such occasions.

As Lois began to cross the alley, an arm jolted her, landing a punch squarely across her jaw. The blinding pain seared through her teeth as her vision blurred. Her hand spun from the pocket and aimed the gun in the direction of the blow and fired as she fought to keep hold of her son's stroller. Joshua screamed, tears began to pour down his reddened face as Lois kicked off her heels, yanked him from the stroller and began to sprint.

Except another man blocked her exit of the alleyway. Lois looked up, gasped as the last thing she saw was a pipe that swung through the air directly at her. Everything faded to black as her son's cries filled her ears.

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**Alright, please leave a thought about what you thought on this Chapter. I hope you found it a fun read. **


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